MISERABLE WOE, PART III
--Tatooine--
The sandcrawler rocked as it continued its journey through the sands of Tatooine. Night had long since fallen on the Dune Sea, the three moons glowing like opulent pearls in the starlit sky.
Within the moving vehicle, Talsai Van stood in the sandcrawler's cockpit. Already he had his ditched his Togruta disguise in favor of his much preferred Sakiyan one, with it adopting his old alias Salvan Tai. He no longer felt comfortable in using the name Merlok -- indeed, it had been eighteen years since he had last identified by it, having quickly gotten used to being called Salvan Tai by others.
Eighteen years. A lot had happened to him in those years. What had started out as a fairly simply reconnaissance mission had turned into... well, this. He had gone by so many faces, so many names, lived so many lives... he was shocked that he wasn't already suffering an identity crisis.
Then again, eighteen years meant little to a long-lived Shi'ido such as himself. If he had been at this for a century or more... who knew where he would be now?
Sitting in front of him at the controls of the sandcrawler, the Jawa known as Trek hummed a little tune to himself as he piloted the vehicle. Salvan recognized it as the Hymn of the Dioskuros, a piece he recalled from his childhood.
"How do you know that piece?" he asked the Jawa.
Trek raised his yellow eyes at him. "Is a Jawa not allowed to have musical tastes?"
"You're no Jawa. I don't know what you are, but I know of no Jawa who knows my real name."
Trek sighed to himself as he returned his gaze to the endless trails of sand. "Well, believe it or not, I am a Jawa. Wasn't always one, granted, but that's what I am now."
"What were you before?" Salvan asked.
"An Ewok." Trek paused for long enough to make Salvan think he was being serious, only to then say, "No, but seriously, I was what you are now. A Shi'ido. Or, more specifically, a Glorian."
"You're an Exile then," Salvan murmured. "You were kissed by a Syren."
"Yes," Trek replied, bitterness in his voice. "All because Starka was an idiot and I knew it, so I went against his orders. I won Agamar for the Glorian Empire, but I guess that doesn't matter when Starka's got his trousers in a twist. Victories only matter when General Perfect is happy. Otherwise, you might as well have just lost."
"Yeah, I never really liked him," Salvan grunted. "Heck, that's part of why I resigned as a general and became an agent instead. Although he was no angel, Eclipse was the lesser of two evils compared to Starka."
"How long have you been an agent?"
"By the time the war ended it had been thirteen years, although by that point I was all but forgotten about. I guess Eclipse didn't deem me 'worthy' enough of helping with the whole Valtheran thing."
"Seems like we both got the short end of the stick in our jobs," Trek said. "Perhaps it was destiny that we were meant to be together."
Salvan glared at him. "Don't get your hopes up, pal. I have no interest whatsoever in a partnership. I just want to get off this forsaken ball of sand."
"And just where is it you intend to go from here?" Trek asked, raising an eye at him. "You've already been abandoned by your crew, and something tells me that 'Baron Salvan Tai' is no longer a popular name anymore."
The Sakiyan frowned, casting his silver eyes to the floor. "I'll, uh... I'll think of something. I'm sure there's something out there...."
"Well, I could always use an extra hand in selling the droids. I used to have a crew, but they all fell into a sarlacc pit." Trek thought for a moment. "And I don't think they did it on accident...."
Salvan sniffed. "Trading droids is beneath a retired general such as myself."
Trek shot him a dirty look. "Yeah? How do you think I feel? At least you have a choice!"
Salvan glanced at him. "What do you mean?"
The Jawa swore in his tongue as he slapped the dashboard of his vehicle. "Oh, for the love of--! Have you ever met a Jawa that's not a scavenger or trader?"
"I've never met any Jawas at all, besides you."
"Well, let me tell you something, pal. You will never -- and I mean never -- see a Jawa who's a senator, or a fighter pilot, or a soldier, or a teacher, or even a Jedi -- and those guys will take anyone in! And it's not like we can't do those things -- we're more than capable enough. But everyone in the galaxy looks down on Jawas as disgusting, pickpocketing rodents that barely registers as sapient. They never even think to give us a chance. Heck, I was even declined a job offer at a junk shop in Mos Shutta, and that was run by a Squib! They're thieves extraordinaire!"
Trek took in a breath, having finished his rant. Salvan stared at him silently, unsure of what to say (or whether he should speak at all). After a moment, the Sakiyan finally decided to speak.
"Do you meet a lot of Jawas who feel that way? Or are you alone in that regard?"
Trek did not answer right away, continuing to focus on the destination ahead. When he finally spoke, his tone was unexpectedly quiet.
"I'm not exactly popular in the Jawa community."
"Why?"
"Because of everything I've just told you. They think I'm a nutjob for wanting more in life; for wanting to, you know, live a life. Plus the fact that Jawaese isn't exactly my first language... I use a translating vocoder to speak Basic, because of the vocal limitations my kind have, but without it, I'm just as unintelligible to Jawas as I am to non-Jawas."
"So you don't actually care that Jawas are shunned by others," Salvan said. "You just resent the fact that you're stuck as one for the rest of your life."
Trek glared at him again. "Very perceptive, Merlok. No wonder Emperor Necros decided to make you one of his spies."
A tense, awkward silence fell over the two, the only sound being the low rumble of the sandcrawler. Salvan had no idea how long it would be before they reached Anchorhead, but he was looking forward to it more and more with each passing moment.
* * *
Junix's Joint was never open past midnight.
Never. No exceptions.
Of course, it hadn't always been this way. Ten years ago, when the cantina was owned by the upbeat Ubdurian Drashen, Junix's Joint was open 24/7, with the nocturnal Chirok N'stri operating the place during the night shift.
However, after N'stri passed away seven years later, Drashen found it difficult to find a suitable replacement and ended up selling the place to a Kedorzhan named Taod Dront. The taciturn rodent had no desire running a business at night and did away with the old schedule, instead closing as soon as the twin suns had started to set.
To reiterate, Junix's Joint was never open at night. No exceptions.
Unless Malvis was in town.
No one could ever really grasp what it was about Malvis that made everyone so afraid of him. To date, no one had any idea of what he looked like, or even what species he was. The popular theory of him being a Hutt had recently been debunked when the Hutt Cartel backed out of moving operations to Ord Talavos when rumor got around that Malvis was already operating there.
Other theories were bounced around, with little to no basis. Some believed him to be an ex-Vigo of Black Sun, while others assumed him to be an alias of the elusive crime boss Mujambo.
Regardless of which was true, it could not be denied that Malvis was a very influential being, so when word got round that the crime lord was looking to Junix's Joint for a location to make business, Taod Dront did the wise thing and allowed to do what he pleased.
What he did not know was that it wasn't actually Malvis whom he was dealing with, but rather simply a member of his circle going by his name. This was a commonly known practice of his cabal, as for many years different people had reportedly met with Malvis, only for the species-- or even gender-- of one to be completely different than the other.
The 'Malvis' in this case was a serpentine Sluissi known as Vasim Alazar. Like most of his kind, Vasim was a technological genius and was accompanied by his droid Omni. Another thing about Junix's Joint was that droids were never allowed, but Taod Dront wisely kept his mouth shut about it.
By the time Valrisa and Typha arrived at Junix's Joint, Vasim was already on his third glass of therin ale, seated in a secluded booth towards the back of the cantina. Omni stood guard and, upon seeing the two women enter, alerted his master of their arrival.
"Ah! Valrisa, Typha." Vasim raised his glass in their direction. "Glad to see you've made it. Please, sit down. I've already gotten you drinks."
The pair made their way over to the booth, sliding in to sit across from Vasim. Typha eagerly went for her drink while Valrisa simply stared at the Sluissi, keeping her mask on. Vasim met her gaze and his face turned serious.
"Do you have it?"
"Yes."
"Is it authentic?"
"Yes."
He breathed out a sigh of relief. "Good. Now we just wait."
"Did they say when they'd show up?"
"Before sunrise was all I was told." Vasim shrugged as he leaned back in his seat. "We very well could be waiting a while."
Typha frowned at this. "Aw. I'm already bored."
"Patience rewards, my friend. Once the deal is done, we will all be rich beyond imagination." The Sluissi grinned, a gleam in his black eyes. "That, Malvis promises you."
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